


Let's Play a Game

by ricekrispyjoints



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: But not in a sexual way - Freeform, Dumb boys being dumb, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nothing explicit, Teasing, alcohol use, and they are both underage, brief house party, but just a headsup, huge losers the both of them, mention of underage, oikawa is not subtle at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricekrispyjoints/pseuds/ricekrispyjoints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Being forced to choose between death or serious maiming and kissing your trashy face? Yeah, I’m having a blast over here.” </p><p>Oikawa thinks he's clever when he's really, really not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Play a Game

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I have silly iwaoi plot bunnies. This is one of them.  
> Graciously beta'd by my one and only cloudmonstachopper. ur the best, yes yes!

It’s on a day in the middle of winter, wrapped in fleece blankets on Iwaizumi’s bed and lazily staring at the ceiling, that Oikawa first devises the game.

He doesn’t exactly tell Iwaizumi that it’s a game—at least, not at first. He’ll save that excuse—er, explanation—for when he gets in trouble.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he says lightly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Those who don’t know him well tend to think that Oikawa is a constant chatter-box, incessantly pestering Iwaizumi. While he certainly _can_ (and does) do that, Oikawa is also adept at reading people—namely, his best friend since grade school—and he knows how to shut up now and again.

Now, of course, is no longer the time to shut up.

“Hmm,” Iwaizumi grunts in response. He’s cold, wrapped up like a burrito in two different throw blankets, though somehow he’s managed to miss his feet, and his blue and white striped sweater-socks poke out the bottom. Oikawa’s head is at Iwaizumi’s feet, so they’re pretty much in his face, but Iwa-chan showered after practice earlier today, so it’s fine. Oikawa doesn’t mind.

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can get a better view of his friend’s face. 

“If someone held a gun to your head and said make out with me or die, what would you do?”

“It’s a wonder that you have any friends whatsoever, with questions like that. Hey, a murderer propositions you. How do you respond?”

“No, Iwa-chan, you’re not kissing the murderer, you’re kissing me. Or the murderer will shoot you,” Oikawa explains, like it’s _obvious_.

“What does the murderer care?” Iwaizumi scoffs.

Oikawa pouts. “You’re no fun, Iwa-chan.”

“This question is supposed to be fun?” he snorts.

Oikawa clicks his tongue and cuts his losses.

“It’s a _game_ ,” Oikawa enthuses. “So which would you pick?”

“Jesus, kiss my best friend or die? I don’t want to die, thanks,” Iwaizumi says with a sigh. “Small price to pay.”

Oikawa narrows his eyes, processing the response. He’s encouraged that Iwaizumi’s mostly playing along and didn’t actually say he’d rather die than kiss Oikawa.

Oikawa ups the ante.

“Okay, so what if you would get shot in the leg and live? Would you still kiss me?”

“What the fuck, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi sighs, his eye-roll practically audible. He wriggles around until he’s sitting up.

 “Would you?” Oikawa looks up at Iwaizumi through thick eyelashes.

“How would I play volleyball if I got shot in the leg, dumbass,” Iwaizumi explains after a moment.

Oikawa brightens. “So you’d kiss me, in that situation.”

Iwaizumi sighs. He’s doing that a lot. “I guess? What the hell is this about?”

“It’s a game! Aren’t you having fun?” Oikawa knows it’s a bit flimsy, but he’s pulled off stupider things with worse covers before. He knows Iwaizumi doesn’t really mind humoring him.

“Being forced to choose between death or serious maiming and kissing your trashy face? Yeah, I’m having a blast over here.”

“Alright, new question,” Oikawa says, trying to think of something that’s a few steps down. He wants to see if he can trick Iwa-chan into saying he wants to kiss Oikawa. It’ll be funny. “You have to choose between … running a marathon or kissing me. What’s your pick?”

Iwaizumi purses his lips, hunching down over his friend. Oikawa knows this face. It’s Iwa-chan’s detective face, the one where he gets all constipated looking as though frowning at a problem might make it reveal itself to him.

Oikawa is sure that he’s the picture of innocence, but he can’t help but have a slight nagging feeling that maybe Iwa-chan is more observant than Oikawa gives him credit for.

“Oikawa, is this your way of saying you want to kiss me?”

Iwaizumi is definitely more observant than Oikawa gives him credit for.

“Of course not, Iwa-chan. Why would I want to kiss you?” Oikawa giggles, but he’s blushing and he can’t meet his friend’s gaze. His big brown eyes dart between Iwaizumi’s face and a very interesting loose thread on the blanket draped around the setter’s shoulders.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “No reason. No reason at all, Oikawa.”

X

It’s at a party at Kunimi’s house, music blaring and more alcohol than teenage boys should have, that Iwaizumi _tries_ to devise a game.

It _was_ just the volleyball team, but somehow girls got invited and the music is too loud and Oikawa lost track of Iwaizumi at least an hour ago.

He’s about to find his jacket and leave when a strong hand grips his shoulder.

“There you are!” a slurred but familiar voice exclaims.

“Mattsun?” Oikawa asks, peering at his teammate’s droopy eyelids and goofy, open smile.

“Iwaizumi’s been lookin’ for you,” he says. “C’mon, I’ll take you to him.”

He manhandles Oikawa toward the back room, away from the main party and into a quieter area with a desk and some chairs. Iwaizumi is there, arm wrestling with Hanamaki.

“Found ‘im!” Mattsukawa announces. Hanamaki gets distracted, and Iwaizumi slams his hand against the table and _giggles_.

“You can’t win sober and you _definitely_ can’t win drunk!” Iwaizumi smirks. 

“Iwaizumi likes to play games when he’s drinking,” Mattsukawa offers as an explanation as he pushes Oikawa gently toward his intoxicated best friend.

“I know you like games, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says, “so let’s do this.”

“Iwa-chan has big scary biceps; there’s no way I’d win,” Oikawa frowns.

“No, we’re gonna play a different game, you and me,” he explains. “Arm wrestling was just for Hanamaki.”

“Okay, so what game do you want to play with me?” Oikawa’s stomach feels uneasy; he’s always trying to get Iwaizumi to play games, but he gets the feeling he’s not going to like this game.

“The game is called ‘make out with me,’” Iwaizumi giggles.

Mattsukawa erupts with laughter, but Hanamaki is sober enough that he grabs his teammate and leaves with a quiet “see you later.”

Oikawa clicks his tongue. “Gross, Iwa-chan is all drunk,” he says, cheeks aflame and the uncomfortable lurch in his stomach intensifying. “I’ll get some water.”

“Nah, I’m fine, Oikawa. Come on; I know you want to.”

Oikawa really isn’t sure just _how_ much Iwa-chan’s had to drink, but it’s definitely more than the half cup of mediocre beer Oikawa has managed.

He approaches his best friend with a sway in his hips and more composure than he knew he could muster in a situation like this.

He gets close to Iwaizumi’s face, close enough that he can smell the beer on his breath. He tries not to wrinkle his nose.

“Iwa-chan,” he breathes.

And then he slaps his friend across the face.

 “What the fuck, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi yelps, clapping a hand to his stinging cheek.

“I’ll be back with water,” he says and he heads out of the room.

Oikawa goes straight for the kitchen, grabs a glass and fills it at the faucet as quickly as he can. He doesn’t think Iwaizumi would bolt, but he isn’t sure.

When he returns, water glass in hand, Iwaizumi is slumped over the desk.

Oikawa places the water next to his head, and Iwaizumi looks up.

His cheek has a faint outline of a hand on it.

“Looks like I got you pretty good,” Oikawa says, scooting the glass toward his friend. It’s not an apology, but it’s something of a peace offering. He’s not sorry he slapped him, but he’s not mad at Iwaizumi, either.

“I thought …” Iwaizumi whispers. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Not quite,” Oikawa says gently. “Now drink the water while I find your jacket. I’ll walk you home, since you’re a drunk mess.”

“M not that drunk,” he tries, but when he lifts the glass to his lips he dribbles some of it down his chin.

“Sure you’re not,” Oikawa smiles. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out to stroke Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi flinches slightly, but then relaxes when he realizes Oikawa isn’t trying to hit him again.

His thumb is soft across the redness of the cheek he slapped.

“I’ll get your jacket,” he repeats. “And finish that water.”

Iwaizumi just grunts in response.

Satisfied, Oikawa goes to Kunimi’s room, where everyone heaped their coats on his bed. He’s glad there’s no one in there, making out or something.

He’s rummaging through the pile, looking for Iwaizumi’s jacket, when it hits him.

He could have had his kiss with Iwa-chan tonight. Iwaizumi had offered, and Oikawa turned him down. Why had he done that? It wasn’t like Oikawa thought Iwaizumi would actually date him, but maybe if he could kiss him, just once, he would get over this ridiculous infatuation with his best friend.

He knew why he had to turn him down, though. Oikawa’s fantasy of kissing Iwaizumi was actually embarrassingly specific: and it most certainly did _not_ include stale breath and foggy memories.

In his imagination, they would just sort of fall together accidentally. A moment of shared space, maybe during a scary movie or huddled over a DS, and they would look up at each other slowly. Eyes meet, then lips, and it’s as easy as falling asleep. They wouldn’t be awkward or weird about it; it would just be a kiss.

Then there would be others.

(And then, if Tooru really let himself go, kissing would turn into touching and he was thinking maybe a June wedding and--)

 _Stop,_ he hisses at himself.

He takes a long, deep breath, and tried to quell the anxiety rising in his throat.

“Find Hajime’s jacket,” he mutters to himself, and focuses entirely on his task.

There are two jackets that look exactly like Iwaizumi’s. Oikawa checks pockets, but finds no evidence of ownership, no keys or wallets or crumpled up papers.

Then he gets an idea.

He races to the door, closing it tightly before he sits down on the bed again and examines each jacket. Then he brings the first jacket to his face and inhales.

It smells like outdoors and a little bit of cologne or body wash, maybe. It has a nice smell.

But it’s not Hajime’s.

Just to make sure, he tells himself, he sniffs the second jacket.

He can’t quite explain the difference, but he knows. He knows it’s Iwa-chan’s, because it smells like outdoors and body wash but also of _boy_ and of _Hajime_ and honestly, he doesn’t have to explain this to anyone.

It’s perfectly normal to know what your best friend smells like.

He takes another deep breath to push down the nervous energy that’s accumulated in his stomach, and folds the jacket carefully over his arm before standing and leaving the bedroom.

When he returns to the room where he left Iwaizumi, the water glass is empty and Iwaizumi is fast asleep, drooling a little bit on the desk.

Oikawa chuckles to himself and drapes the jacket over his friend.

“Wakey wakey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa coos softly.

“Hmfph?” Iwaizumi mumbles.

“Come on; let’s get you home. Then you can go to sleep.”

“M’fine here.”

“No, you’re not sleeping on Kunimi’s dad’s desk. You’re drooling everywhere.”

Iwaizumi slurps the spit back into his mouth, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “No’m not!”

“Sure, sure,” Oikawa agrees softly, and takes Iwa-chan by the elbow, lifting him out of the desk chair.

Oikawa walks him home, Iwaizumi slouched against his side, and tucks him into bed with another glass of water.

He wants to stay the night, but he doesn’t trust himself to sleep in Iwaizumi’s bed. When he’s got Iwaizumi settled in, he walks down the hall to pull the futon out of the closet, picks a pillow off the couch, and returns to Iwaizumi’s room.

Making sure the trashcan is within Iwaizumi’s reach, he falls asleep to the quiet sounds of Iwaizumi’s snores.

In the morning, Iwaizumi is slightly hungover, and claims his mouth tastes like “recycled ass.”

Neither of them mentions what happened the night before.

Everything is fine.

X

It’s an early spring day, warm enough to open the windows and let a breeze freshen up the stale air of Iwaizumi’s bedroom, when Iwaizumi brings it up.

“Oikawa, if you could kiss me right now, would you?”

They’re doing math homework—something about conic sections—but Oikawa hasn’t been concentrating for the past 45 minutes.

All he’s been thinking about is how toned Iwaizumi’s arms are, how smooth and warm and soft his skin looks, how charming he looks with his brows furrowed over his class notes and a pencil in his mouth as he furiously erases an incorrect response.

It’s been a month since the party, and Oikawa is as frustrated as ever. He’s kicking himself over not letting Iwaizumi kiss him when he offered—who cares if he was drunk? It was probably the only chance he would ever get, and he had refused because it didn’t match up to his fantasy.

Okay, he refused because he wanted Iwaizumi to actually _want_ to kiss him, not just be drunk and convenient.

So this question is a tricky one. _If he could kiss Iwaizumi right now, would he?_

The blood rushes to Oikawa’s face faster than he imagined possible. Despite this, he tries to play it cool.

“Would saying ‘yes’ get me punched in the face?” he asks petulantly. If Iwaizumi’s just joking around, he’ll call him a name or rise to the bait. Oikawa waits for the reaction.

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi says quietly, and it isn’t what Oikawa’s expecting.

He thinks Iwaizumi’s being serious, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Maybe Iwaizumi is finally bringing up what happened at the party, though that’s the last thing Oikawa wants to think about.

“Hmm, only maybe?” Oikawa hums, then swallows hard. “Then I might take my chances.”

“You… you would?”

“Iwa-chan has head-butted me before,” he offers. “It makes being punched not sound so bad.”

“Do you want to kiss me right now?” Iwaizumi asks, and Oikawa suddenly becomes aware that the distance between them has gotten smaller.

When Oikawa lifts his gaze to Iwaizumi’s, he’s looking straight at him. Oikawa isn’t sure if it’s unnerving or incredibly, stupidly hot.

Oikawa takes the leap.

“I always want to kiss you,” he admits in a whisper.

“You do?”

“Mm,” he confirms.

“Can I ask… why?” Iwaizumi asks. He shrinks down a bit, looking small and shy and so unlike Iwa-chan that Oikawa smiles gently. _He’s so cute._

“Because Iwa-chan is always there for me,” he begins. “And you smell so good, and you _look_ so good, and you’re smart and you’re my ace and my best friend.”

Oikawa feels stupid, hot tears brimming over his eyelashes. “Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?”

“I… I’m not… I don’t know,” Iwaizumi admits, biting his lip. He watches a tear spill onto Oikawa’s cheek, and reaches out for it hesitantly.  Oikawa brushes it away before he can commit to the motion.“Could we…kiss?” Iwaizumi asks in a low voice.

“You want to?” Oikawa asks, shocked.

“I think so,” he says. “I mean, I wasn’t kidding at the party. I get why you turned me down then, since I was kinda drunk and I bet I was gross, but… I’ve thought about it. Kissing you. A lot. I want to try it.”

“Okay, Iwa-chan.”

It’s far from accidental, as they stare each other down for a good minute before either of them moves. It’s awkward and shy, and even though there’s no skill, it sends a rush down Oikawa’s spine anyway.

After a moment, Iwaizumi pulls back.

“Was that okay?” he asks.

“Hm,” Oikawa says, a glint in his eye. “I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean, you’re ‘not sure’?!” Iwaizumi demands.

“I think I need to kiss you again to find out.”

Iwaizumi catches the smirk this time.

“You’re such an ass.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!”

“Shut up and kiss me again, Shittykawa.”

X

It’s on an unusually cool day in May, snuggled up in bed together, wrapped up in one blanket that Oikawa brings it up.

 He’s really just trying to get a rise out of his boyfriend, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a bit invested in the answer he got.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?” he replies, dropping a kiss in Oikawa’s hair.

“When we have sex, would you bottom for me?”

Iwaizumi blanches.

 _Shit_ , Oikawa thinks. _I went too far._ Was it too soon to be thinking about it? They had both given each other a few handjobs and once Oikawa even sucked Iwaizumi off.

Still, anal sex was a big step up from hands and mouths on each other.

“I’ve actually… um… I …”

Oikawa gapes: he’s never seen Iwaizumi speechless like this before.

“I’ve sort of tried it?” Iwaizumi manages finally. “On my own, I mean.”

Oikawa’s eyes go wide.

“And?” he prompts.

“I want to try it.”

“Really?” Oikawa asks, trying not to sound _too_ eager.

 “Yeah, but _not_ right now; I see that look in your eye.”

“Okay, Iwa-chan. I’ll follow your lead.”

 X

The next time they play a game, it’s to see who can embarrass the other more as they buy lube and condoms at the pharmacy.

Iwaizumi loses.

(Oikawa comes first that night, though, so Iwaizumi thinks maybe they’re even after all.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> So... that happened.  
> Thanks for reading and if you leave kudos or comments, thanks for those too.  
> find me on tumblr and ko-fi as ricekrispyjoints, if you're into that kind of thing


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